Valdemar 05 - [Vows & Honor 02] - Oathbreakers

by Mercedes Lackey

corthu : (cohr-thoo)—one being

  dester‘edre: (destair ay-dhray)—wind(born) sibling

  dhon: (dthohn)—very much

  du‘dera: (doo dearah)—(I) give (you) comfort

  for‘shava: (fohr shahvah)—very, very good

  get‘ke: (get kay)—(could you) explain

  gestena: (gestaynah)—thank you

  hai: (hi)—yes

  hai shala: (hi shahlah)—do you understand?

  hai‘she’li: (hi she lee)—surprised “yes,” literally “yes, I swear!”

  hai‘vetha: (hi vethah)—yes, (be) running

  her‘y: (hear ee)—(is this not) the truth

  isda: (eesdah)—have you (ever) seen (such)

  jel‘enedra: (jel enaydrah)—little sister

  jel’ sutho’ edrin: (jel soothoh aydthrin)—“forever younger siblings,” usually refers to horses

  jostumal: (johstoomahl)—enemy, literally, “one desiring (your) blood”

  kadessa: (kahdessah)—rodent of the Dhorisha Plains

  Kal‘enedral: (kahlenaydhrahl)—Her sword-brothers or Her swordchildren

  Kal‘enel: (kahl enel)—the Warrior aspect of the four-faced Goddess, literally, “Sword of the Stars.” Also called Enelve’astre (Star-Eyed) and Da‘gretha (Warrior).

  kathal: (kahthahl)—go gently

  kele: (kaylay)—(go) onward

  kestra: (kestrah)—a casual friend

  krethes: (kraythes)—speculation

  kulath: (koolahth)—go find

  leshya‘e: (layshee-ah ee)—spirit; not a vengeful, earthbound ghost, but a helpful spirit

  Liha‘irden: (leehah eardhren)—deer-footed

  li‘ha’eer: (lee hah eeahr)—exclamation, literally, “by the gods”

  li‘sa’eer: (lee sah eeahr)—exclamation of extreme surprise, literally “by the highest gods!”

  nes: (nes)—bad

  nos: (nohs)—it is

  pretera: (praytearah)—grasscat

  sadullos: (sahdoolohs)—safer

  se: (sy)—is/are

  she‘chorne: (shay chornah)—homosexual; does not have negative connotations among the Shin’a‘in.

  she‘enedra: (shay enaydrah)—sister by blood-oathing

  sheka: (shaykah)—horse droppings

  shena: (shaynah)—of the Clan, literally ‘of the brotherhood’

  shesti: (shestee)—nonsense

  Shin‘a’in: (shin ay in)—the people of the plains

  so‘trekoth: (soh traykoth)—fool who will believe anything, literally, “gape-mouthed hatchling”

  staven: (stahven)—water

  Tale‘edras: (tahle aydhrahs)—Hawkbrothers, a race who may or may not be related to the Shin’a‘in, living in the Pelagiris Forest

  Tale‘sedrin: (tahle saydhrin)—children of the hawk

  te‘sorthene: (tay sohrthayne)—heart-friend, spirit-friend

  Vai datha: (vi dahthah)—expression of resignation or agreement, literally “there are many ways.”

  var‘athanda: (vahr ahthahndah)—to be forgetful of

  ves‘tacha: (ves tahchah)—beloved one

  vysaka: (visahkah)—the spiritual bond between the Kal‘enedral and the Warrior; its presence can actually be detected by an Adept, another Kalen- edral, and the Kal’enedral him/herself. It is this bond which creates the “shielding” that makes Kal‘enedral celibate/neuter and somewhat immune to magic.

  vyusher: (vi-ooshear)—wolf

  yai: (yi)—two

  yuthi‘so’coro: (yoothee soh cohr-oh)—road courtesy; the rules Shin‘a’in follow when traveling on a public road.

  Appendix Two

  Songs and Poems

  SUFFER THE CHILDREN

  (Tarma: Oathbreakers)

  These are the hands that wield a sword

  With trained and practiced skill;

  These are the hands, and this the mind,

  Both honed and backed by will.

  Death is my partner, blood my trade,

  And war my passion wild—

  But these are the hands that also ache

  To hold a tiny child.

  CH: Suffer, they suffer, the children,

  When I see them, gods, how my heart breaks!

  It is ever and always the children

  Who will pay for their parents’ mistakes.

  Somehow they know that I’m a friend—

  I see it in their eyes,

  Somehow they sense a kindly heart—

  So young, so very wise.

  Mine are the hands that maim and kill—

  But children never care.

  They only know my hands are strong

  And comfort is found there.

  Little enough that I can do

  To shield the young from pain—

  Not while their parents fight and die

  For land, or goods, or gain.

  All I can do is give them love—

  All I can do is strive

  To teach them enough of my poor skill

  To help them stay alive.

  OATHBREAKERS

  CH: Cursed Oathbreakers, your honor’s in pawn

  And worthless the vows you have made—

  Justice shall see you where others have gone,

  Delivered to those you betrayed!

  These are the signs of a mage that’s forsworn—

  The True Gifts gone dead in his hand,

  Magic corrupted and discipline torn,

  Shifting heart like shifting sand;

  Swift to allow any passion to run,

  Given to hatred and rage.

  Give him wide berth and his company shun—

  For darkness devours the Dark Mage.

  These are the signs of a traitor in war—

  Wealth from no visible source,

  Shunning old comrades he welcomed before,

  Holding to no steady course.

  If you uncover the one who’d betray,

  Heed not his words nor his pen.

  Give him no second chance—drive him away—

  False once will prove false again.

  These are the signs of the treacherous priest—

  Pleasure in anyone’s pain,

  Abuse or degrading of man or of beast,

  Duty as second to gain,

  Preaching belief but with none of his own,

  Twisting all that he controls.

  Fear him and never face him all alone,

  He corrupts innocent souls.

  These are the signs of the king honor-broke—

  Pride coming first over all,

  Treading the backs and the necks of his folk

  That he alone might stand tall,

  Giving himself to desires that are base,

  Tyrannous, cunning, and cruel.

  Bring him down—set someone else in his place.

  Such men are not fit to rule.

  ADVICE TO YOUNG MAGICIANS

  (Kethry)

  The firebird knows your anger

  And the firebird feels your fear,

  For your passions will attract her

  And your feelings draw her near.

  But the negative emotions

  Only make her flame and fly.

  You must rule your heart, magician,

  Or by her bright wings you die.

  Now the cold-drake lives in silence

  And he feeds on dark despair

  Where the shadows fall the bleakest

  You will find the cold-drake there.

  For he seeks to chill your spirit

  And to lure you down to death.

  Learn to rule your soul, magician,

  Ere you dare the cold-drake’s breath.

  And the griffon is a proud beast

  He’s the master of the sky.

  And no one forgets the sight

  Who has seen the griffon fly.

  But his will is formed in magic

  And not mortal flesh and bone

  And if you would rule the griffon

 
You must first control your own.

  The kyree is a creature

  With a soul both old and wise

  You must never think to fool him

  For he sees through all disguise.

  If you seek to call a kyree

  All your secrets he shall plumb—

  So be certain you are worthy

  Or the kyree—will not come.

  For your own heart you must conquer

  If the firebird you would call

  You must know the dark within you

  Ere you seek the cold-drake’s hall

  Here is better rede, magician

  Than those books upon your shelf—

  If you seek to master others

  You must master first yourself.

  OATHBOUND

  (The Oathbound, Tarma & Kethry)

  CH: Bonds of blood and bonds of steel

  Bonds of god-fire and of need,

  Bonds that only we two feel

  Bonds of word and bonds of deed,

  Bonds we took—and knew the cost

  Bonds we swore without mistake

  Bonds that give more than we lost,

  Bonds that grant more than they take.

  Tarma:

  Kal‘enedral, Sword-Sworn, I,

  To my Star-Eyed Goddess bound,

  With my pledge would vengeance buy

  But far more than vengeance found.

  Now with steel and iron will

  Serve my Lady and my Clan

  All my pleasure in my skill—

  Nevermore with any man.

  Kethry:

  Bound am I by my own will

  Never to misuse my power—

  Never to pervert my skill

  To the pleasures of an hour.

  With this blade that I now wear

  Came another bond indeed—

  While her arcane gifts I share

  I am bound to woman’s Need.

  Tarma:

  And by blood-oath we are bound

  Held by more than mortal bands

  For the vow we swore was crowned

  By god-fires upon our hands.

  Kethry:

  You are more than shield-sib now

  We are bound, and yet are free

  So I make one final vow—

  That your Clan shall live through me.

  ADVICE TO WOULD-BE HEROES

  (Tarma)

  So you want to go earning your keep with your

  sword

  And you think it cannot be too hard—

  And you dream of becoming a hero or lord

  With your praises sung out by some bard.

  Well now, let me then venture to give you advice

  And when all of my lecture is done

  We will see if my words have not made you

  think twice

  About whether adventuring’s “fun!”

  Now before you seek shelter or food for yourself

  Go seek first for those things for your beast

  For he is worth far more than praises or pelf

  Though a fool thinks to value him least.

  If you’ve ever a moment at leisure to spare

  Then devote it, as if to your god,

  To his grooming, and practice, and weapons-repair

  And to seeing you both are well-shod.

  Eat you lightly and sparingly—never fuh-fed-

  For a full belly founders your mind.

  Ah, but sleep when you can—it is better than

  bread—

  For on night-watch no rest will you find.

  Do not boast of your skill, for there’s always one

  more

  Who would prove he is better than you.

  Treat swordladies like sisters, and not like a whore

  Or your wenching days, child, will be few.

  When you look for a captain, then look for the man

  Who thinks first of his men and their beasts,

  And who listens to scouts, and has more than

  one plan,

  And heeds not overmuch to the priests.

  And if you become captain, when choosing your

  men

  Do not look at the “heroes” at all.

  For a hero dies young—rather choose yourself ten

  Or a dozen whose pride’s not so tall.

  Now your Swordmaster’s god—whosoever he be—

  When he stands there before you to teach

  And don’t argue or whine, think to mock foolishly

  Or you’ll soon be consulting a leech!

  Now most booty is taken by generals and kings

  And there’s little that’s left for the low

  So it’s best that you learn skills, or work at odd

  things

  To keep food in your mouth as you go.

  And last, if you should chance to reach equal my

  years

  You must find you a new kind of trade

  For the plea that you’re still spry will fall on

  deaf ears—

  There’s no work for old swords, I’m afraid.

  Now if all that I’ve told you has not changed

  your mind

  Then I’ll teach you as best as I can.

  For you’re stubborn, like me, and like me of the

  kind

  Becomes one fine swords-woman or -man!

  THE PRICE OF COMMAND

  (Captain Idra)

  This is the price of commanding—

  That you always stand alone,

  Letting no one near

  To see the fear

  That’s behind the mask you’ve grown.

  This is the price of commanding.

  This is the price of commanding-

  That you watch your dearest die,

  Sending women and men

  To fight again,

  And you never tell them why.

  This is the price of commanding.

  This is the price of commanding,

  That mistakes are signed in red—

  And that you won’t pay

  But others may,

  And your best may wind up dead.

  This is the price of commanding.

  This is the price of commanding—

  All the deaths that haunt your sleep.

  And you hope they forgive

  And so you live

  With your memories buried deep.

  This is the price of commanding.

  This is the price of commanding—

  That if you won‘t, others will.

  So you take your post,

  Mindful of each ghost—

  You’ve a debt to them to fill.

  This is the price of commanding.

  THE ARCHIVIST

  (Jadrek)

  I sit amid the dusty books. The dust invades my very soul.

  It coats my heart with weariness and chokes it with despair.

  My life lies beached and withered on a lonely, bleak, uncharted shoal.

  There are no kindred spirits here to understand, or care.

  When I was young, how often I would feed my hungry mind with tales

  And sought the fellowship in books I did not find in kin.

  For one does not seek friends when every overture to others fails

  So all the company I craved I built from dreams within.

  Those dreams—from all my books of lore I plucked the wonders one by one

  And waited for the day that I was certain was to come

  When some new hero would appear whose quest had only now begun

  With desperate need of lore and wisdom I alone could plumb.

  And then, ah then, I’d ride away to join with legend and with song.

  The trusted friend of heroes, figured in their words and deeds.

  Until that day, among the books I’d dwell—but I have dwelt too long

  And like the books I sit alone, a relic no one needs.

  I grow too old, I grow too old, my achin
g bones have made me lame

  And if my futile dream came true, I could not live it now.

  The time is past, long past, when I could ride the wings of fleeting fame

  The dream is dead beneath the dust, as ‘neath the dust I bow.

  So, unregarded and alone I tend these fragments of the past

  Poor fool who bartered life and soul on dreams and useless lore.

  And as I watch despair and bitterness enclose my heart at last

  Within my soul’s dark night I cry out, “Is there nothing more?”

  LIZARD DREAMS

  (Kethry: Oathbound)

  Most folk avoid the Pelagir Hills, where ancient wars and battles

  Were fought with magic, not with steel, for land and gold and chattels.

  Most folk avoid the forest dark for magics still surround it

  And change the creatures living there and all that dwell around it.

  Within a tree upon a hill that glowed at night with magic

  There lived a lizard named Gervase whose life was rather tragic.

  His heart was brave, his mind was wise. He longed to be a wizard.

  But who would ever think to teach their magic to a lizard?

  So poor Gervase would sit and dream, or sigh as sadly rueing

  That fate kept him forever barred from good he could be doing.

  That he had wit and mind and will it cannot be debated

  He also had the kindest heart that ever gods created.

  One day as Gervase sighed and dreamed all in the forest sunning